"Traditionally, literature makes much of the beauty of fleeting things and the delight of the bittersweet mixing of pain and pleasure. But no one ever said that heaven was seasonal or fleeting. Heaven is always portrayed as blissfully monotonous, one bright blue day after another forever and ever.
Rather like California."

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Monday, June 19, 2017

I’ve taught school, officially, for 22 years now. I mean, as a
contracted teacher. I also worked as a teacher’s aide, and as a
short-term and long-term, substitute teacher for a couple of years, as I
finished the credential program in California. I went to college, for a
couple of years, fresh out of high school, but wasn’t a dedicated
student. So I dropped out, got married, had five children, then decided
to go back and finish my degree (because I had so much spare time). But,
this second attempt at college was more successful because I’d gained
more self-discipline, and better stick-to-it skills as a mother. I
became a full-time teacher when my “baby” was in eighth grade. It was a
really hard transition because I didn’t realize how much time was
involved in being The Teacher. Wow … lots of work and time. But, it is a
very entertaining profession. I’ve taught in California, Maryland, and
Nevada, and have been in 4th grade for my whole career … I love them.
Here are few anecdotes:

One afternoon, a father came in to pick up his son from my
after-school tutoring group. Addressing Father, I explained how Son,
standing right beside us, was still having a great deal of trouble
focusing on work during class time, and how I was hoping that Father
could help me with this. (I’d called and talked to Mom a couple of
times; Son just loved to talk and mess around.) Father spoke, “Well,
I’ve heard just about enough of this bull[expletive] about trouble in
school. And, I don’t want to hear about it again. So deal with it,
okay?” I turned to Son, and then looked at Father, and then Father spoke
again, “You understand, lady? Don’t call our house ever again.” He was
speaking to me … not to Son … luckily, the vice-principal was still in
her office, so I just took that pair, and our conversation, right to her
door.

All year, I had been teaching how to write complete paragraphs that
included a topic sentence and a closing sentence. We had completed our
research reports on birds. Each student was assigned a different bird,
and it included four paragraphs of information. Best closing sentence
ever: “Vultures are a very useful bird. Without them, the world would be
covered in dead meat.”

In my first classroom here in Nevada, I had a population of students
who spoke English only to me. The rest of their lives was lived in
Spanish. I do not speak Spanish. I’ve heard it a lot, but I learned
French in my high school. After living twenty years in Southern
California, though, I understood quite a bit, but I still couldn’t make
sentences without mixing up French and Spanish. So, I stuck to English.
One afternoon, I needed my students to line up so that we could go to
another classroom for some event. I announced, “Okay, you guys, it’s
time to stand up and push in your chairs so we can line up.” I saw a boy
turn to a girl near him, and say, in Spanish, “No, stay here, she said
“You guys” –it’s just boys leaving.” I said to him, “No, todos los
estudiantes — hijos y hijas.” It just came out!! It means “all the
students–boys and girls.” The look on his face was priceless!! He was
astonished! Good grief! His teacher understood what he said, and she
replied — in Spanish! I could tell he was wondering what else I’d
overheard in class.

Another year in that same school, I’d worked so hard to teach
vocabulary that went along with our reading program. We read the words,
we spelled them, we defined them, we found synonyms and antonyms, and we
acted them out (when possible). Well, we really struggled with the word
“anxious” because it is hard to say, and weird to spell. And most of
them had never encountered it before. Several weeks after it had been on
our study list, we were discussing a new story, and I asked the
students if they could describe how one of the characters must have been
feeling. Crickets … then a dear little girl’s face lit up with a smile,
and she shot her hand into the air. “Meeess…he was fiiilling anxious!”
Yeah!!!

When I was at my first-ever school, one of my high school aged
daughters volunteered in my classroom one afternoon. She told me this
story that evening: two little girls came over and asked, “Is your
mother like this at home, too?” My daughter replied, “Like: what she
says to do, she means; and no matter what you do, she’ll never change
her mind?” “Yes!!” they said, in unison. Ha ha!! We laughed.

One day I saw one of my students looking really sad. I asked him
what happened. He replied that his dad was so mad at him for getting in
trouble with me at school, and having me phone home, that Dad had
announced that the son couldn’t go to Pocono to the NASCAR races that
summer. (School had about nine weeks to go.) Hmmm … so I called Dad and
made a deal. I’d make up a little chart, and Son would bring it home
daily to show Dad how that school day had gone. If Son could get four
out of five days with good reports for each week, till school was out,
could he earn back the trip to NASCAR? Dad agreed … I had the best
“Carrot” anybody ever had to use for the rest of the year! We had a fine
end of the year, and Son learned how to be a better student.

I’ve got a million of them … but, I’ll stop now. I didn’t know that
being a teacher was going to be worth much more than just my paycheck.